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Generations

Looking into her eyes is looking through the years of history.  Those deep blue eyes were Granny's.  I remember how big they looked behind her thick glasses.  The glasses magnified  the sparkle of joy and humor always found within them.  She was the only grandparent I really had.  Her husband had died before I was born, and my mother's parents had been deceased as well.  She seemed to make up for that though, as she was always filled with "oceans of love."  

Granny loved us, her open arms and wide grin warmly greeted us whenever we would visit. Her hugs engulfed you.  She would have a homemade meal waiting for our arrival, especially made by her and Aunt Lucille.  Often we would eat out on their enclosed front porch during the hot summer days.  Dessert would be her signature "Sunshine Cookies," white puffy cookies with scalloped edges that always made you want more.  Her eyes teased you to indulge as she passed the cookie plate around one more time.


The night time sky would gradually close in during those Midwest summers, and I would sit on the porch swing with Granny.  Often, I would lean my head on her shoulder and quietly we'd swing, her hand in mine, just listening to the conversation of other "grown ups." Her eyes filled with blissful joy.


Ella was a special lady.  Born in the late 1800's, she lived on a farm in the small community of Washington, Illinois.  Reportedly, she loved horseback riding, but she really wasn't one to talk about the past, she'd rather look ahead.  She was quite glad to get off the farm and raised her family in Peoria.  She was well organized and lived a life of discipline, up daily by 6 AM no matter what.  She demonstrated a quiet faith in God, not one to challenge you, but to demonstrate dependence on the One who saved her.  She'd humbly shut her eyes with a tight squeeze and begin her prayers with "We praise Thee and thank Thee . . . "  She opened her home to her elderly sister and brother, and gave them care until they died. She never learned to drive a car and was skeptical of planes.  But at my Dad's persuasion, she took her first airplane trip to Arizona during the 103rd year of her life.  One day, she simply closed those eyes for the last time, and opened them into eternity at the age of 107 . . .


Looking into her eyes is history as I see the face of Daddio.  His eyes too always sparkled with encouragement and joy.  Those are the eyes that danced with mine as we would skip around the basement of our house when I was just 4 years old.  It was like twirling with a giant and how I loved it!  Dad was passionate about life and mostly about what he did.  He often told how he gave up his plans to be an architect, all because of being saved at the age of 17 years.  Soon thereafter, he felt his call on his life to be a Minister.  He was unashamedly Christian, faithfully living up to his middle name for his 92 years.


But it's his eyes that I won't forget.  Even when on his deathbed, my brothers and I spent days and hours around him.  His eyelids closed and he seemed unresponsive.  It was when I told him that I had to return to my family and that this would be my last good bye; he stirred, turned, and opened his eyes for one more look.  I will never forget that precious gaze he struggled to make one more time.  The next day, he was gone, and all I was left with were his eyes upon mine. . .

Looking into her eyes is now and even in the future.  She must be pondering all who have come behind her as well as those who will be ahead of her.  I don't think you realize that your face can tell so much.  We forget that there is so much behind our looks.  Human life is not just a brand new face upon a blank canvas.  It's having those matching eyes that have had a time and place before.  And yes, Lord willing, those eyes of mine will match another face in time . . .

"Behold, the eye of the Lord is on those who fear Him, on those who hope for His lovingkindness, to deliver their soul from death, and to keep them alive in famine.  Our soul waits for the Lord; He is our help and our shield."  (Psalm 33: 18-20)








 

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